


Lionwolf's Song

by Shanaya91



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-29 01:05:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shanaya91/pseuds/Shanaya91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon Snow is, loyal friend and an honorable lord Ned Stark's only mistake. He knew from the start that Lannister and Stark blood should never merge. But some urges are uncontrollable when you are young and in love. What if instead of going to the wall, Jon agreed to go to the Kings Landing with his father, sisters and his secret mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**irst ever Fan-fiction so be kind and comment. Reviews, Favs, Follows and stones accepted.**

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**Prologue**

 

 

Cersei's POV

 

Robert Baratheon may win battles, but Cersei knew she herself had won the war. She had baby Jon to prove it.

"A Stark and a Lannister together…and here I thought I have seen it all." Tyrion raised a brow.

"Little brother, you are not being any help." Jaime looked furious. Not a surprise. No man or woman who lived in Westros had any idea about their incestuous behavior. Jaime had left kings landing to hide his lion hide in Casterly Rock for months after she revealed her secret pregnancy to him.

No, it's not incest. Targareyans wed brothers and sisters for 300 years to keep their bloodline pure. She and Jaime are more than brother and sister. They shared a womb. They came into this world together, they belong together.

  
"This is not my fault dear brother. It's our sister who went man xcrazy, on Ned Stark of all people."

Cersei Knew her beloved brother was still in denial. However, looking at the stark through and through features of her newborn, it was clear the babe was no offspring of golden haired, green eyed Jaime Lannister. 

"How could you sister." Jaime asked for the hundredth time since he returned to the capitol.

"I'm sorry brother."

Jaime loved her. She loved him as well. Sometimes she thought they'd come to this world already loving each other. But when she met young lord Ned stark something inside of her burned like the fire of Aegon I Targaryen's dragons. The naïve seventeen year old in her raised pass the well constructed façade she always used in front of noble lords and handsome knights.

It really was fire, she realized. The first true licks of flame that brought nothing but delight and a bright, blinding need for more.

It didn't matter that her brother hated her now, or that her husband seemed to search the heaven in every cunt in Kings Landing. It didn't matter that Stannis looked at her the way no man should look at his brother's wife.

Nor did it matter that her baby boy slept in her chambers. Whether they were separated by a floor or the narrow sea, she felt her son's needs as she felt her own. The bond was so strong, so true, it could never be broken.

For Lannisters family means everything.

"Where is it?" Jaime asked. Jon Arryn frowned over the letter he was reading. Since the day her Jon was born, the old man had developed a strange bond with Cersei and her child.

Both Ned and Robert grew up with him. And Jon, her beautiful Black haired beauty looked like a miniature of the man who fathered him.

"You are talking about a child, Jaime Lannister, my child, not a thing." People are going to say lot worse to her son. A child born out of wedlock, a bastard. Casterly Rock was her home. She knew how her people treated bastard children.

"He's in my chambers. Let's go. I bid you good night my lord." She said to the fatherly old man.

"A minute please, my queen. I have something important to tell you about what we discussed last week." He waited until he had her full attention.

"I received a raven from lord Stark today."

* * *

_Cersei's POV_

There were candles glowing in her bed chamber, the most ornate of all the chambers in royal wing. Deirdre, her best friend as well as the head handmaiden, didn't trust the spare chambers in hand's tower Jon Arryn so kindly offered. He feared Stannis would take a one good look at the babe's grey eyes and know who sired him.

Every person in kings landing believed Jon to be a Baratheon, the crown prince.

Only few knew the truth, and they are going to take her babe away.

Deirdre held baby Jon and was trying to quiet him with a slight rock of her body, but the baby's fists were shaking, little balls of rage. Her little fighter.

"Such a temper he has." Cersei set the candle down and was laughing as Deirdre crossed the room, her arms already outstretched. "Are you sure he's not a Baratheon, I mean your boy has beautiful black hair, like the finest black silks from Essos."

"No he's mine and Ned's. I love with all my heart. My little Lionwolf."

"Knows what he wants, and when he wants it." Deirdre, a pretty Clegane with sleepy blue eyes, gave the baby a quick cuddle, then passed him off. "He hardly made a fuss yet, fierce and clever likes any Lannister. Don't know how you hear him way off small council room."

"I hear him in my heart. There now, my Lionwolf. Mother's here."

"Be careful,  swaddling cloths are wet, my queen."

"I'll change him." And who knows how long she'll get to do that herself. Robert was off hunting with his brother when she gave birth to Jon. But he's back, still drunk and smelly as a fleabottom sewer. She'd already seen the suspicious looks Varys aimed at her. She wasn't sure how long it will take before the Spider voice his suspicions to his brother. Cersei rubbed her cheek on the baby's and sighed.

Her life will be darker and lonelier than the depth of seven hells without her baby boy, her own flesh and blood. She didn't want Robert's children.

 _"But a Queen needs an heir Jon,"_  Cersei murmured sadly. " _She needs to conceive and produce heirs. Male heirs to secure the royal line. Baratheon hold in king's landing will grow in strength once a crown prince is born. One with pure Lannister blood. I promise you, none of your siblings will have the blood of that wicked man."_

Deirdre was a friend-another battle won. Having her established as the wet-nurse of Jon secured his safety. Her presence in the royal household, gave Cersei comfort and the companionship none of Robert's family save Renly would offer her.

"Go on back to your bed dear friend. Once he's fed, he'll sleep till morning."

"Good as gold, he is. But then, he's half Lannister" Deirdre brushed fingertips over baby Jon's curly black hair. "If you don't need me, maybe I'll take a walk down to the godswood. Ser. Kylar, he's going to be there." Her blue eyes lit.

"I told him maybe, if I can get away, I come down around midnight."

"Seven hells, I do not know what you see in him Deirdre."

"He's very handsome."

"So is his horse," Cersei said lightly. "And the horse is of more interest to me."

"Oh, don't be so rude My queen, not all of us can have Kings, princes and lords who are willing to  _throw themselves_  into being our love slaves."

"You ought to make that boy marry you, my girl. I always thought Ser. Kylar fancied joining the kingsguard."

Her face withered "Oh, I'm going to. He promised. Maybe I run down for an hour or two, if you don't mind, Your Grace."

"I don't mind, but you be careful and try to avoid yourself being seen with him. Anything more," she corrected as she prepared to change baby Jon's soiled silk.

"Don't you worry. I'll be back before day break" She started out through the connecting door and glanced back. "Your Grace? You ever think when we were kids, that you'd be queen of seven kingdoms one day?"

"I'm not queen here, yet." She tickled the baby's toes and had her son gurgling. "And the ones who don't want me to be queen probably will live to a hundred and ten off of spite just to make sure I never am." Not unless she do something about it. Deirdre knew she was talking about Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon.

"If anybody could, it'd be them. But you will be, one day. You will have King Robert's true heir and become his true queen. You fell into the luck, Cersei, and it looks fine on you."

Alone with the baby, Cersei tickled and cooed. She powdered and smoothed, then tidily fastened the fresh cloth. When Jon was tucked into a fresh cloths and swaddled, she settled in the rocker, bared her breast for that tiny, hungry mouth. Those first greedy tugs, the answering pull in her womb, made her sigh.

She bent her head to watch the baby drink from her breast. Her little Lionwolf's eyes were wide open, fixed on his mother's face. A tiny crease of concentration formed between his eyebrows. So serious, fiercely loyal, strong and silent, just like his father.

Oh, she had such hope those eyes would stay steely grey, like Ned's. The baby's hair was black like his father's. But shiny and curling, like her own. And his skin was milk white-again like his father's rather than the deeper tone, the sun kissed gold of his southern mother's.

He had inherited the best of both of them, Cersei thought.

However, it was his northern Stark features that would help him survive the cold north as well as Robert's wrath.

They are going to shift babies. A kitchen maid will claim her baby as her's while her son replace Jon in Cerise's arms. Wylla was the wet-nurse to Ser Arthur Dayne's sister's daughter. After Robert's rebellion he had slept with the girl, impregnating her with his child. The boy she gave birth to, a day before Jon's birth had all the Baratheon features. Fortunately or unfortunately, the child was faint hearted, he would not live to see the next moon. Ned Stark will come to Kings Landing in three days to take his son back to winterfell, to raise him as his own. He promised.

"Be careful my love, Trust your wolf half. It will help you survive the long winter that will separate us."

Yes, she'd fallen into the luck. Because Lyanna Stark, the one true love of Robert the usurper, died in tower of joy. And she's going to run the seven kingdoms with her brother and father while he eat, drink and whore his way into an early grave.

Power is power, no matter who wield it.


	2. chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some of the dialogues straight from the GOT to make it more real.

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_ **Jon's POV** _

"You understand why I did it." Father asked Bran. Poor boy looked ready to piss in his breeches. But he hid it well. They were riding back to winterfell after executing a deserter from the wall. The man swore that he saw white walkers. He kept repeating the same words  _"White Walkers. I saw the White Walkers. White Walkers. The White Walkers, I saw them_ "until the second Ice decapitated his body from the head.

Winterfell is dark, dank and dreary and Jon somehow knew the south of the wall is enjoying the last few moons of summer.  
"Jon said he was a deserter."  
"But you understand why I had to kill him." Ned Stark asked him with a serious expression on his face.  
"Our way is the old way."  
"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

"Is it true he saw the White Walkers?" Bran asked in a low voice.

"The White Walkers have been gone for thousands of years. Just like Dragons"  
"So he was lying?" Bran sighed in relief.  
"A madman sees what he sees." But Will, the night's watch deserter wasn't mad, Jon was sure of it.

It was when they saw the half-eaten deer carcass lying over the road.

Theon murmured. "Mountain lion?"

"There are no mountain lions in these woods."

"What killed him?" Robb asked.

"Let's find out." Their father said dismounting from his horse.

They followed the trail of blood until they came across a small stream. Lying on its bank was the dead remains of a wolf. No, it seemed too big to be called a wolf.

"Is that a direwolf?" Theon asked. Jon stared at him, his mouth agape. It wasn't like  _Theon_  Greyjoy to say clever words. Jon sometimes thought Theon was dumber than Hodor the gentle halfwit.

The dead wolf mother – a Direwolf had her reason of death the antler of the stag it killed stabbed through her throat. Her clueless pups, the most beautiful wolf pups Jon had ever seen were whimpering around her body in the snow.

"There are no direwolves south of the Wall." Robb pointed out.

"Now there are five." His gaze narrowed on Jon's face.

Jon picked up a pup and offers it to Bran. He kept staring back and forth between Jon and the pup.

"You want to hold it?" Jon asked at the end of his patience. It wasn't right. The boy just saw his first beheading.

" Where will they go? Their mother's dead." He asked taking the direwolf pup from his brother.

Where do the dead go?  what do you think?

He didn't have the heart to Bran what would happen to the mother less wolf pups in this cold.

"They don't belong down here." Cassel said in his know it all voice. For some reason Jon felt those word's to his heart. Yes, they did not belong down here, just like him. They belong to the north, far, far north from winterfell.

"Better a quick death. They won't last long without their mother." His father didn't look like he wants to put his words in to action.

"Right. Give it here." Theon had to step in. Bloody monster.

" NO!" Bran screamed.

Robb looked disgustedly towards Theon. "Put away your blade."  
"I take orders from your father, not you." Yes, that conversation again.

"Please, father!" Bran pleaded, holding his direwolf firmly against his chest.

" I'm sorry, Bran."

"Lord Stark. There are five pups. One for each of the Stark children. The Direwolf is the sigil of your house. They were meant to have them." Jon added.

Everyone looked at Ned Stark, Bran with great hope, Robb and Jon with expectance and Theon with indifference.

"You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they die, you will bury them yourselves."

Bran cradled his pup as Jon hands more pups to Robb. But they all nodded with acceptance.  
What about you? His younger brother asked Jon.

"I'm not a Stark. Get on."

Jon walked away. Before he could walk ten feet he heard something. Another whimper?

"What is it?" Robb asked.

Jon searched the bushes to see a white wolf pup, hiding under the forest growth. Jon noted that the pup's red eyes are similar to the faces on carved weirwood trees by the children of the forest.  
"The runt of the litter. That one's yours, Snow." Just this once, Theon Greyjoy was absolutely right.

* * *

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_**Cersei's POV** _

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She heard bells ringing at Kings Landing. In front of the Iron Throne, surrounded by druidical looking celebrants, lied the body of Jon Arryn.

Up in the balcony, Cersei watched the scene below as her beloved brother approached her from behind.

"As your brother, I feel it's my duty to warn you: You worry too much. It's starting to show."

She wasn't happy having had to kill the old man. He helped her during the darkest part of her life.

"And you never worry about anything. When we were seven, you jumped off the cliffs as Casterly Rock. One hundred foot drop into the water. And you were never afraid."

"There was nothing to be afraid of until you told father." Jaime moved close to her. "We're Lannisters. Lannisters don't act like fools." He whispered mimicking their father's words.

"What if Jon Arryn told someone?"  
"But who would he tell?' Jaime laughed.

"My husband." She no longer feared the man. But he was still the King. The fact that he was unaware of the power he wield was something else.

" If he told the king, both our heads would be skewered on the city gates by now. Whatever Jon Arryn knew or didn't know, it died with him. And Robert will choose a new Hand of the king, someone to do his job while he's off fucking boars and hunting whores. Or is it the other way around? And life will go on."

Cersei sighed."You should be the Hand of the king."

"That's an honor I can do without. Their days are too long, their lives are too short."

Jaime stared at her for a while, and was speechless. He knew how sad and lost she had been since the day they took her first child away. "We won't lose them my love, worry not."

She smiled again, and kissed him, stroking his cheek. Jaime felt moisture in his eyes, and quickly buried his face in her shoulder.

"I'm sorry." Jaime said over and over, as if it was a prayer, "I'm so sorry, Cersei. I went away from you when you needed me most before. I didn't mean to treat you like I did. I was such a stubborn fool, and I don't deserve you. How can you forgive me?"

He wanted to stay in her shoulder forever, and never pull away. But every wall in kings landing had thousand eyes and ears.

Jaime felt his twin pull his head from her shoulder, and she stared at his tear-stained face. She smiled and wiped away whatever tears remained, and kissed him again.

"But don't you see?" she said, "I already have. We are meant to be together, always together. Keep in mind, brother, _everyone_  who isn't us is an enemy."


	3. chapter 3

 

 

 

 

 

 

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_Jon's POV_

 

 

 

They were all gathered in the courtyard, to welcome the royals. The minute he saw the grand entry of the king’s horses and men, something pulled at his heart. He saw Arya, wearing a helm and cloak, push her way into a tall wagon for a better look.

 “Where’s Arya? Sansa, where’s your sister?” Catelyn asked her oldest daughter.  
  
Just the second Lady Stark turned to go looking for Arya; she scooted past her parents to get in the receiving line. Still wearing the helm.  
  
“Hey, hey, hey, hey. What are you doing with that on?” Her father pulled it off from her head.  
  
He saw prince Joffrey smiling at Sansa. He glared at him; he turned to see Robb mirror his action. The huge guard next to Joffrey pulled up his helm to expose a half burned face.

“The hound.”Muttered Robb from where he was standing in front of Jon.

 

 The coach carrying Queen lumbered in, followed by  a very fat and red-faced King Robert in all his might. Everybody kneeled when he entered the castle. king heaved himself off his big horse.

Then he signaled for all to rise and walked towards father.

“Your Grace.” Father bowed.  
  
King Robert put his hands on father’s shoulders. “You’ve got fat.”  
  
“What about you?” Then  they  both started laughing.  
  
“Cat!” He greeted Lady Stark.  
  
Then he did the same with all of Lord Stark’s children save Jon.

“That’s Jaime Lannister. The queen’s twin brother.” Arya whispered particularly to no one.  
  
“Would you please shut up?” Sansa yelled in a whisper. Surely Lady Stark must have given her orders to keep Arya in line.

Queen Cersei approached them. Jon studied the queen, wondering why she’s called the most beautiful woman in the seven kingdoms.

When Cersei comes to greet the Starks, she offered Lord Stark her hand immediately, Jon wondered if he was the only one noticed.  
  
“My queen.” Father bowed, and kissed her hand. For some reason she kept looking behind Lord Stark at the place Jon is standing. Jon tried to avoid eye contact. He thought the queen already knew who he was. The bastard of winterfell.  
  
  
“My queen.” Said Catelyn, following her Lord husband’s lead.  
  
“Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects.” The king said in an impatient voice.  
  
“We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait.” King Robert gave his wife a grumpy frown.

  
“ Ned.”

 Before turning to go with King Robert to see aunt Lyanna, both Queen Cersei and his father share a lingering look of … something.

  
“Where’s the Imp?” Arya asked, this time in a far louder tone.  
  
The queen, obviously  humiliated in front of all by her husband’s rude rejection, walked back to her notorious twin, the kingslayer.  
  
“Where is our brother? Go find the little beast.” She yelled.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Starks are having a feast honor the king. He was not allowed, of course . A lowborn bastard  like him shouldn’t defile the reunion of two houses  by his presence. Out in the courtyard, Jon took out his frustration on fencing dummy. The thing was nearly destroyed. But his anger was not ready to subside.

 “Is he dead yet?” He turned to see Uncle Benjen standing in the courtyard, his hair and black fur of his cloths wet with rain.  
  
“ Uncle Benjen!” the man took Jon in to a warm bear hug.  
  
  
“You got bigger.” He said studying his nephew.  “I rode all day. Didn’t want to leave you alone with the Lannisters. Why aren’t you at the feast?” Isn’t it obvious uncle?  
  
“Lady Stark thought it might insult the royal family to seat a bastard in their midst.”

“Well, you’re always welcome on the wall. No bastard was ever refused a seat there.” His uncle gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder. That’s why he loved his uncle. He always wanted Jon to join him on the wall, be a black brother like himself, and he actually meant it.  
  
“So take me with you when you go back. I can wield a sword, what I can’t, I can learn from you on the wall.”  
  
“Jon…” He ruffled Jon’s newly shortened black curls.

He knew where this conversation was going. “Father will let me if you ask him, I know he will.”  Jon always wondered as to why his lord father was reluctant to let him join The Night's Watch.  
  
“The Wall isn’t going anywhere.”  Benjen said, as Jon scoffed at him.  
  
“I’m fourteen years  _old uncle. And more than_ ready to swear your oath.”  
  
“ You don’t understand what you’d be giving up. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons.” Is that remorse he just saw in Uncle Benjen’s eyes? None of the Stark kids knew why he joined Night’s Watch. He was silent about it. Just like he was always silent wnen asked about Jon’s mother.

Since Jon is fourteen years old now, this strongly implies that he’s being hiding his mother’s identity for that long. But why? If his mother was some lucky whore or a camp follower who got a child off seven kingdom’s most honorable lord, why hide it.

 

“I don’t care about that.” Who will say the vows with a bastard unless forced at sword point.

 

  
“You might, if you knew what it meant. … wait few more years Jon. You’ll meet some pretty wench and marriage will be all you can think about.  I’d better get inside. Rescue your father from his guests. We’ll talk later.”

He waited until his uncle disappear in to the banquet and started hitting the dummy with more force that before.

He saw queen’s younger brother moving into the courtyard, drunk but silent as a shadow.

“Is that someone I know?” Jon ignored the imp.  
  
“Your uncle’s in the Night’s Watch.”  
  
“What’re you doing back there?” He asked the Lannister, his practice sword hit the stone ground making a huge thud in the nightly air.

  
“ Preparing for a night with your family. I’ve always wanted to see the Wall.” The imp continued drinking  more ale from his waterskin.   
What does he know about the wall, being a southerner and all?

  
“You’re Tyrion Lannister. The queen’s brother?”  
  
“My greatest accomplishment. You – you’re Ned Stark’s bastard, aren’t you?” He shot back.  Jon just gave him an icy stare, as Tyrion mused at the boy.  
  
It was too much for one night. Jon tried to control his anger by turning away.

“Did I offend you? Sorry. You are the bastard, though.” Why is he looking at me that way? Like he have seen me before. It was the same look uncle Benjen gave him when he said “You got bigger” after studying him.  
  
“Lord Eddard Stark is your father. And Lady Stark is not your mother. Making you a bastard. Let me give you some advice, son. Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Wear it like armor. Then it can never be used to hurt you.”  
  
“What the hell do you know about being a bastard?”  
  
“Oh, I beg to differ. All dwarves are bastards in their fathers’ eyes. But life is what we make it, my boy, always has been, always will be.”

“You have your mother’s nose.” It took him a moment to digest the imp’s.  
“You knew my mother, but how?”

“I see everything my boy. As a dwarf I’m not meant for the field of battle like my dear brother. Knowledge is my power.”  
 He walked away with a wolfish smile. Jon picked up his sword and started attacking the dummy with new ferocity.

 

 

* * *

 

  
_Ceresi’s POV_

She watched her husband getting bawdy with a wench. A kitchen maid undoubtly.   , Catelyn looked embarrassed. Cersei tried to look calm though she was disgusted to the bitter end. But then, she has seen much worse. She got furious every time she thought of the southern whores he’d stab with his right royal prick.

Sitting at the entrance of the great hall, Ned was talking with some man in black who looked very much a stark. His younger brother, probably.

But Jon was nowhere to be seen.

 

Joffrey moved from where he stood next to her to sit beside his betrothed, the hound fallowed him like the faithful dog he is.

She drummed her fingers against her thigh as she thought. Looking at Sandor remined het of his monsterous brother. The Mountain, they called him. Gregor Clegane who'd dashed dragon prince's heir's head against the walls and raped his mother, with her babe's blood and brains still slick on his hands. It made her nauseous as she pictured her babies, her golden-haired, green-eyed little ones, and the oldest one too, one who had looked so like Ned when she'd last seen him...

She wished she could hate Ned for it, for his pathetic weakness of character, and his blatant neglect of their son. But the steady, abiding love just wouldn't shift aside. Which made her, she supposed, as foolish as her mother. At least of wasn't the all consuming uncontrollable love she felt for her soulmate Jaime.

  

 

 

 

Catelyn smiled at her, obviously trying to ignore the elephant in the room. “Is this your first time in the North, Your Grace?”

 When she was young, she often wondered as to why Ned chose Catelyn over her. She knew by the time they met she was just his new bride , just a pretty bonus he got because of his older brother’s untimely dismiss. If there was an example for the trophy wife, Cersei thought as her temper sizzled, Catelyn Tully- Stark was it.  Curvy and red haired with a fruitful womb. .

  “ Yes. Lovely country.”

 

“I’m sure it’s very grim, after Kings Landing. I remember how scared I was when Ned brought me up here for the first time.” Cersei knew why she was asking these things. Robert had asked Ned to give his oldest daughter’s hand to Joffrey. Her baby boy’s going to be wed.

Catelyn Tully scared her, even as a girl. She stole Ned from her. Made her firstborn a bastard. And now she’s going to steal her son.

 If she was going to go claw to claw with Lady Stark, it wouldn't be after a welcoming banquet  and in castle of Winterfell. Cersei would choose the time, and the place.

 

  Time to get to know her future daughter in law. The second that thought crossed her mind the girl approached and smiled shyly at her.  
  
“Hello, little dove. But you are a beauty. How old are you?”  
  
“ Thirteen, Your Grace.”  
  
“ And have you bled yet?” The Stark girl with Tully features attempted in discomfit.

  
“No, Your Grace.”

  
Good, then there’s more time.

 Now, she thought, Sansa Stark was simply a problem to be solved.

 

 

 

 

 


	4. chapter 4

 

 

 

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_Jon's POV_

 

 "I don't know what she sees in that boy. Can't even wield a sword properly ", Robb mumbled and Jon just shrugged his shoulders.

"Look who’s acting like the all possessive big brother!" Theon yelled, laughing.

"The girl is a true romantic. But she’s just a kid.” Jon lifted a brow.

“And now she’s leaving, you too.” He could clearly see the pain in his brother’s Tully blue eyes. They were so much like his mother’s, but warmer. 

"I know," Jon replied, as he saddled his horse “Worry not brother, Sansa may look a lot like her mother from outside but she has more wolf blood than fish blood. She’s a survivor."

"I can see that. Be safe, Kings Landing is not like Winterfell from what I hear." Robb said, as he stroked Jon’s mare.

“The place is spilling over with Lannisters.” Theon added.

“Send me a raven, I want be fully informed about Bran’s condition.” Jon still felt angry about having to leave before his brother recovers from his crippling  _injury_. Poor boy was still unconscious.  

“I promise.”

"I don't know how I can thank you enough, I want both of you here in winterfell, but it’s a relief to know you’ll be with them at kings landing. Keep Arya out of trouble. She’s bound to find them in a place such as that."

"You don't need to. It's family."

“I already have _Septa_  Mordane to babysit me.” Arya pointed needle towards her older brother.

Jon winced as he hauled himself onto the horse. He told that stupid girl to keep it out of sight from everyone until they were out of the reach of Lady Stark.

But Robb just laughed and linked arms with his sister.

"And how the six of you managed to live in this place together and not be struck by lightning is a mystery to me." Theon said in his indifferent tone.

“I don’t want to travel in the carriage with Sansa and _Septa_  Mordane. Sansa is such an oaf; Joffrey is all she ever talks about. _How many children do you think he’d want? What if  i only have girls?  Jeyne Poole's mother had five children. All of them girls._ Gods, I’m not going to marry, ever. _”_ Arya said mimicking Sansa’s ladylike tone.

 

"Is it?" Amused, Jon tilted his head. "Well, then, climb up and we'll go see about that."

He offered his gloved hand. "It's pleased I am to travel with you, my lady."

"Yes." Arya winced as he hauled herself onto the horse. "Me too." Both Theon and Robb broke in to laughter.

Jon was feeling odd. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he hadn't slept in two days. All he wanted to do before was to go the wall, be with uncle Benjen. But now he’s going to Kings Landing.

 

His eyes were all for the castle. Both Jon and Arya waved their hands at the people who were gathered in front of the castle to bid them good bye.

“We’ll see them again. This is not farewell.” Arya said with fierce determination in her voice.

 

Gray stone glittered in the sun, with flashing chips of quartz and mica. Towers lanced into the pearly sky. From the topmost, a white flag flew, with a wolf a grey direwolf in its middle.

The castle grew smaller and smaller until the flag was all he could see.

Ghost followed his horse like the shadow he was named after. Jon wondered if he felt bad about having to leave his litter-mates Grey Wind, summer and Shaggydog. But then, Ghost was an outsider amongst his family like Jon.

  He had given the perfect name for his albino direwolf not just because of his white fur. It was the fact that he never makes a sound which made him think of the name Ghost.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 The horse sputtered and bucked and jolted his bones. He wondered how many of his internal organs had been shifted. Gritting his teeth, Jon cursed and cajoled and threatened the unhappy mare up a rise. _Septa_  Mordane had yanked Arya back into the carriage. He was glad about that as irritating patter of rain had decided to pay another visit.

He had grown a new friendship with the youngest Baratheon Prince, Tommen. The boy followed him everywhere like a lost puppy, hero worshiping Jon’s every move. Jon was suspicious as to why the Queen allowed him to hang around with a bastard.

 

The green and white trees, the river, the snow, the three crumbling towers of Moat Cailin made of stone; it was all in a dreamy blur that made him realize he was as exhausted as he was sick. He hadn't been able to sleep on any of the nights since leaving Winterfell and calculated it had been nearly a week since he'd last been horizontal.

_Cold rain streaming down his face, warm blood oozing through his fingers. His blood, and her blood._

_He hadn't been able to stop the blood from oozing any more than he'd been able to stop the rain from streaming. They were both beyond him and, in the beach of Dragonstone, had washed away what had been left of him._

“Boy, wake up.”

Jon jumped like an arrow, and barely managed to turn a scream into a more acceptable masculine yelp.

A man whom the Lannisters called the “Hound” came galloping towards him. He despised the man to the bitter end.

"Seven Hells, Ser. You scared the daylight out of me."

 “Did I now? There." The Hound asked and lifted a hand and gestured. “You are too tired, just going to drive that stupid animal into a ditch by the kingsroad.” 

 

“It’s alright.”

"If you'll pardon my saying so,” He continued, "you don't look to be in any shape to ride a horse at the moment."

Calling up every oath he knew, Jon dismounted his horse. He wasn’t some weak damsel waiting to be saved. But seeing quite delirious nightmares every time he closed his eyes had turned him in to a wag.

 

 

He was surprised as to why the Hound, crown prince Joffrey’s personal guard would care so much about his safety.

"Hmm. Did you know you're bleeding?"

"Where?'' Jon lifted a hand gingerly, after wiping his nose with it he looked at his blood smeared fingers in disgust. " She probably cursed me."

 

 "And who might you be speaking of?"

 

_The silver haired, purple eyed girl in my dreams._ “No one.” Jon wiped his fingers on his breeches.

 

“Do not lie to me boy.” The Hound said mildly.

 

Tired, aching, and at the end of his tether, Jon stared back into the grim yellow eyes. Maybe he'd find himself turned into a squashed beetle, but he was taking his stand.

"My name is Jon Snow, Ser Clegane.  And that's that."

 

* * *

 

_ Ned's POV _

__

__

“Where is Nymeria? Eddard asked from Arya for the tenth time. The girl just stared at her father with a stubborn expression on her face.

She’s starting to look more and more like Lyanna by each passing day. It almost hurt to look at her without seeing his dead sister’s in Arya’s features.

“I don’t know, she ran away, after…after.”

“Attacking the prince….she almost killed him.” Sansa started to cry again. The sound of her breathing in the big, empty hut seemed to echo.

  

Arya's grey eyes darkened dangerously. “And he almost killed Mycah.”

“What are they going to do to Lady, she didn’t do anything. It was all Nymeria’s doing.”

With a breathless sob, Sansa leaned over her father’s shoulder.

Furious that the tears were threatening again, she backed away. For a moment she stood—

Straight, proud, discreet.

“She’s going to die, poor Lady, the hound’s going to kill her.”

“No she’s not, Sansa.” He kept his eyes, soft as fog, on hers. “They are not going to kill your wolf.”

“But…the..The queen said.”

“She was angry when she said that, I talked her out of it. " Like she talked me out of letting Jon take the balck."Now stop fighting with your sister and go to sleep.”

 

Ned felt as though she'd stuck a lance in his heart. She was crying. Tears were streaming out of her brimming blue eyes and flowing down her pale cheeks. There was nothing, nothing, he wanted more at that moment than to take his daughters and son in his arms and go back to winterfell.

 

But he had agreed to be Robert’s hand, and Sansa’s to wed his son.

 

He felt a new kind of fear, a rippling panic at the thought that what he loved most, his family  was about to slip through his fingers.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ Cersei's POV _

__

 

__

“You look well, My Lord” she said, and wished it wasn’t so true. He still had the lean, athletic body of his youth. His face was not as smooth, and the ruggedness maturity had brought to it only made it more attractive. His hair was still a rich, deep almost black, and his lashes were just as long and thick as ever. And his hands were as strong and beautiful as they had been the first time they had touched her. A lifetime ago, she reminded herself, and settled her own hands in her lap.

  She’d been trying to avoid this moment her best since their arrival to Winterfell. The awkward first meeting of once lovers.

She’d been hanging around the Stark tent to catch a glimpse of her son. She nearly faded in to the shadows when she saw him coming. Cersei could only thank the fates that her senses had given her time to compose herself. How humiliating it would have been if she’d seen him before she’d had a chance to prepare herself. And how satisfying it had been to see that flicker of surprise and puzzlement cross his face at her cold and casual greeting.

 

“ You look magnificent. A little fat, maybe.”  

The pout became more pronounced. “Is that a part of your northern charm My Lord?”

“Um.” He took a chance and walked with her toward the woods. His scent was as subtle and alluring as warm earth. She felt a tug, not so much unexpected as frustrating. Though he walked beside her, she knew he was as distant as he had been when there had been an ocean between them.

“I have something to tell you, Your Grace, if you do not mind.”

 

How to remain composed under stress was something she’d learned very well. She stood, carefully smoothing her long skirts. “I gave you a son, Ned. I think formalities have long since left us. You can tell me anything.”

 

“What I did was wrong; I broke my vows to my wife. And I left you lost and pregnant in that snake pit. My daughter is innocent Your Grace….Cersei; she has nothing but love for your son.”

Amused, Cersei narrowed her eyes in challenge. “You think I’ll use her to take revenge. I’ve been a woman longer than I’ve been a mother, Lord Stark. I know what it feels like to be betrothed to some faceless stranger.”

“Catelyn thought….”

 Pride stiffened her spine, her voice. “Now I understand.”

“Tell her not to worry; I know what you northerners think of westeros, especially of us Lannisters. But she will be safe. She’s your daughter as much as she’s Catelyn Tully’s. My son thinks of her as a sister. She’ll be safe with me.”

He took her hands in his. “You hold an enmity a long time.”

“Yes.”

“I was eighteen years old, Your…Cersei, and there were reasons, we both had our reasons.”

“Reasons that hardly matter now.” Her stomach was beginning to burn. “The point is, I do not want to start from where we left off. We both have our own reasons.”

He gave her a considering look. “That was not my purpose.”

“Good.” That was just one more thing she could damn him for. “We both have our separate lives, Ned. We must keep it that way.” She smiled now, thin as a blade.

He nodded, slowly. “You have changed more than I’d thought.”

“Yes, I have.” She started out, stopped, then looked over her shoulder. “We both have. But I imagine you still know to leave a lady alone when she does not want company.”

 

The bastard. Once she was safety of her tent, Cersei let out a splinter of the rage. That he would have the nerve, the insensitivity, the stupidity to tiptoe into her life again.

To stand there and smile at her as if he expected her to shout for joy and jump into his arms. And to look baffled when she hadn’t. Bastard. She clenched her fists, and almost slammed a flower Vas across the glass of her mirror.

 

Fourteen years. He’d walked away from her, leaving her hurting and helpless and hopeless. It still shamed her to remember the quivering mass of confusion and grief she’d been for weeks after he’d taken her child gone.

But she’d rebuilt her life on the ashes of the dreams that Ned had burned beneath her. She’d found her focus, and a kind of steady contentment in her younger children.

Now he was back.

At the voice of her head handmaiden, she blocked her feelings, her thoughts again, then slid onto the chair in front of her mirror. “Yes, come in.”

She was idly unpinning her braided hair when Deirdre stepped inside. She glanced over absently, with just a hint of a frown in her eyes.

"Why do you refuse to see your son My Queen?"

"I don't refuse." Annoyed, Cersei went back to combing her long golden locks. She was avoiding the boy as well as his father, and she knew it. Something had come into her during the stay at winterfell, something she was unable to identify. It left her uneasy and unsettled.

"I tried to talk with him three times," she reminded Deirdre. “But I can’t go around asking about a bastard without raising chaos."

"More his father’s son than mine. He's grown into a very handsome boy."  Cersei said lightly.

"And strong," Deirdre continued, stepping closer. “I saw him fencing with one of the knights today.”

“Who won?” Cersei asked her heart swelling with pride.

“The knight of course, but your boy was pretty amazing for a fourteen year old.”

“And to think he was going to waste his skills guarding the wall.” Her blood boiled like the wrath of the gods, every time she thought of how Ned had decided to let his brother take her baby to the wall.“I always thought Lord Stark is the one for you, our Grace. But you let that fish daughter thieve him from you. But His Grace, he cares about you a lot. I think you should give him another chance.”

She was stronger now, she reminded herself. She was no longer the girl who had laid her heart, bleeding and broken, at her young Lord’s feet. And there were more—many more—important things in her life now than a man. Love, she thought, could be such a lie. She had no place, and no tolerance, for naïve love anymore. She had her children, her title, her brother. She had her life again, and that life had a purpose.

That was enough to sustain her.

"There is no one." Cersei tossed her head. Hope gave neither happiness nor sleep at night. It was a luxury she, above all, could ill afford. "I want no man, Deirdre. I will depend on no one but myself. It's woman's foolishness, woman's need, and man's deceit that have cursed us." Like so many times before, she wanted tell her friend the truth about her golden haired children’s parentage. But the only way two people can keep a secret is if one of them is dead.

"Woman's pride as much as foolishness." Deirdre made the queen’s bed in silence. “Will you let yours stop you from taking a chance for freedom? You wanted it so much when you were young."

" I was Just a young and stupid girl . I was born a highborn lady, Deirdre, and I knew when the time comes I will have to marry some faceless stranger and lie with him until I conceive. That I will have to make the next heir of a prominent House, train my daughters as I was trained, to be a proper lady"

 

 Her eyes burned green fire in the dusk, like the lioness that was her sigil. “ I was ready to forget my past, start a new life with him. Do you want to know what I got in return? The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by Ned’s sister’s name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Seven Hells.” The woman whispered.

“In that moment I thought that I cannot grow to love him or the any of his offspring. He almost made me hate our children. “

The lies we tell for love, she thought. May the gods forgive me.

 

"But you love the child. The one you made out of wedlock.” Deirdre  murmured.

"My heart is so cold." Tired, Cersei closed her eyes. "I fear there is no love in me.” Yes she loved her brother. But sometimes she wondered if she loved him because she didn’t want to lose him like she lost her mother. “How can I give what isn't mine?"

"You're wrong." Gently Deirdre touched her cheek. "Your heart isn't cold. It's only trapped."

“Should I free it, Deirdre, so it could be broken as it once was?" She shook her head. "That solves nothing. Go now; I’ll prepare myself for the bed. Deirdre, I’ve waited fourteen years to finally see my son. We’d better be in kings landing before I let the seven hells broke loose."

"This seems like a fine time. I bid you good night, Your Grace." So saying, Deirdre strode out of the tent.

_Dreams, she thought. Wind and rain, the flash of lightning. The yellow flames of the fire in the grate. Pain, sweat, thirst. Blood. Women's hands, women's voices--Deirdre's? --giving comfort, giving encouragement._

_She dreamed of storms and pain. Of fear and joys._

_Rain and wind lashed the windows, and the pain that whipped through her erupted in a sobbing scream._

_Sweat and tears poured down her face--her face. Her face, her body._

_The room was gold with candlelight and the snap and simmer of the fire in the blue marble hearth. And as that storm raged in the Blackwater bay, another spun through her.  Agony vised her belly with the next contraction. She was blind with it. Her cry against it was primal, and burned her throat with its passion._

_“Push, Your Grace! You have to push! You're almost there.”_

_Tired, she was so tired, so weak. How could she live through such pain? But she grit her teeth. Almost mad as the mad king. Everything she was, everything she had, focused on this one task, this one miracle._

_Her child. Her child, Ned's child, was fighting to come into the world. She bore down with all the strength she had left. Life depended on it. “There's the head! Seven Hells! Such hair! One more, My Queen. One more, Your Grace.”_

_She was laughing now. Better than screaming, even if the laugh was tinged with hysteria. She braced herself on her elbows, threw her head back as fresh, unspeakable pain rolled through her._

_This one moment, this one act, was the greatest gift a woman could give, her first time. This_ _gift, this child, would be held safe, would be cherished. Would be loved for all of her days._

_And on the pain, with lightning flashing, on the roar of thunder, she pushed, pushed, pushed wailing life into the world._

_"A boy! You have a beautiful boy.''_

_Pain was forgotten. The hours of sweat and blood and agony were nothing now in_ _the brilliant flash of joy. Weeping from it, she held out her arms for the small_ _wriggling baby who cried out in what sounded like triumph._

 _"_ _My Lionwolf. My beautiful Lionwolf. Tell _Jaime_. Oh, please bring   _Ned_ to see _ _Our son."_

 _They cleaned both mother and baby first, smiling at the mother's impatience and_ _the child's irritable cries._ _There were tears in Ned's eyes when he came into the room. When he clasped_ _her hand, his fingers trembled. When he looked at the child they'd created, his_ _face filled with wonder._

 _‘We'll keep him  safe, Ned. No matter what, we'll keep him safe and hidden from Robert._ _He's ours. Promise me you'll love and care for him, always.”_

_“Say the words. I need to hear you say the words.”_

_Still holding her hand, Ned laid a tender finger on his son’s cheek. "I'll love and I'll care for him, always. I swear it. He’ll grow up as a Stark.”_

_But the next day when she asked, they said he left Kings Landing to go back to Winterfell. To welcome his fishwife and their eight moons old heir home._

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ Cersei's POV _

 

 

The queen seated herself at the far end of the yard unnoticed by all. Her golden hair piled atop her head, lips pursed as she watched her older son at his training. When Jon removed his helm after disarming another Lannister knight, a tumble of raven curls fall about his well sculptured face - he resembles his father, while  the rest of her children are ‘to the core’ Lannisters.

 "Well done, Lord Snow," Ser Adler said, extending a hand to the young boy, who stares at the Lefford knight for a while before taking it.

“A pity he is not allowed to fight in the king’s tourney. My Boy here is a better water dancer than most of the Royal Knights.” Velrio, the Braavosi master swordsman Cersei spent a fortune on to be Jon’s personal master at arms said in a smug voice.

The fallen knight hissed in disapproval. “He’s a filthy baseborn.”

Some of us are born muddle-headed, Ser Knight, but one must work hard to remain stupid.” This earned a blasting laughter from the rest of the people who were gathered in the training arena.

“You filthy nitwit,” The Knight yelled. “You call me stupid. I’m Lucious Swyft, do you know what means?  My good brother is Kevan Lannister, the uncle of her grace the Queen.

A Swyft, well that explains everything. The rooster Knights of Cornfield are not known for their wisdom or patience.

 

  “A man is born alone and dies alone; and he experiences the good and bad consequences of his deeds alone.” Jon’s hand gripped the hilt of his practice sword as if he would draw it and fight. He had his eyes firmly focused on the Swyft Knight. 

 Her firstborn has a warrior's heart and an honest simplicity that endears him to all, and her second is as sharp and clever as the lion cub Jaime had been at his age. She favors Joffrey, of course - she could never change that - but she cannot ignore the mother’s instincts, which compels her to protect all of her children the way a lioness protect her cubs.

“Let’s see who dies alone then.” Ser Lucious said drawing his sword.

“Ser Boros.” Cersei addressed the Knight who accompanies her everywhere as her sworn shield. The wise Knight took her cue and walked towards the arena and announced her presence.  

“My Queen.” The men bowed.

“The tourney will be held in two days time. What purpose is there in more shed of blood?" Cersei stated in her cold and unreachable voice.

“Pardon us my Queen.”

She judged the Swyft boy to be about ten and nine, with fair hair and cheeks still round though he was already a man. But those cheeks were pale, and the hair was matted with mud. “You are dismissed, all of you.”

“Not you boy,” She said when Jon turned to leave. “I would like to talk with you in person.”

Jon’s jaw dropped, the grey eyes as big as dinner plates. “With me….It’s an honor Your Grace.” She waited until the training arena was vacant except for the two of them. Ser Boros went to stand next to the entrance of the practice yard , to stop anyone else from entering.

"You see only black and white. Lucious may be just a green boy with a big mouth but it’s unwise to create new enemies in a place like this."

The boy nodded. “You trap yourself. It's not a sword that will cut through the ice and fire. It's knowledge."

 

“My Queen, can I ask you something?” Guilt clawed at her. Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella never had to ask for anything. As the kings children they were entitled to all the riches of the seven kingdoms.

“What do you want to know?” Cersei asked encouragingly.

“Lady Ashara Dayne, have you met her.” It took her few minutes to acknowledge the strange question.

“Of course I have.” Ashara was a lady-in-waiting to Princess Elia Martell. She was tall, with long dark hair and haunting Violet eyes. She had a reputation for great beauty. Many men were infatuated with her, including Barristan Selmy and, according to rumor, Eddard Stark. With a jolt she realized why Jon was asking about her. According to Ser Barristan Selmy she gave birth to a stillborn child. A man dishonored her at Harrenhal during the tourney and got her with child.  She jumped from the top of one of the towers of Starfall in to the summer sea, soon after the rebellion.  Her body was never recovered. ”

Let him believe Ashara was his mother.  It’s a lot safer than telling him the truth.

 

                                                                            

* * *

 

 

_Tyrion's POV_

_“The King is dead.”_

 

 The King Landing was buzzing over the shocking news. passing fact, rumor and innuendo from one to another, the way the guests at a Feast passed bowls of steaming stew. It was a rich broth, spiced with scandal, sex and secrets. The death of the King, rumors about incest shook every nook and coner of the city.

Some said there would be trouble. Bound to be. Trouble hung around ‘the untimely death of a king’ like a bell around a bull's neck. Oh, Tyrion was as neutral as ever, with that devil’s knack for torture his Nephew was gifted- or cursed-with, it won’t be long before the people start to riot. Would his sister be able to control the new king like a puppet? Sure didn't look that way.

He was happy Cersei could force Joffrey to make Former Lord Hand and Lord of Winterfell, Ned Stark take the black except the public beheading dear Joff had planned for him.

 It would have been the beginning of next usurper rebellion with Young Wolf threatening war from the north.

The New Warden of north and Lord of Winterfell, Robb Stark agreed to a truce between north and westeros under one condition, safe passage home for his two sisters and half brother. And with one of the girls missing, their chances of making a truce were very few and far between.  

The boy king was less amendable to both his and queen regent’s advice, saying he’s almost a man grown and fully able to take a decision alone.

While his stupid prick of a nephew’s hiding behind his mother’s skirts the bannermen of House Stark has declared Robb Stark as the King in the North. Also According Lord Varys’ little birds, Little Arya is headed north with the black brother and King Robert’s last surviving bastard son.  

Then there was another storm brewing in the Free Cities. But even knowing the details, Tyrion never really expected there would come a day, when he would have to advice the king to make a truce between himself and Daenerys Targaryen as well. It seemed even he had been underestimating the Mother of Dragons. If she could cross the Narrow Sea, cities will burn, people will die and Red Keep will surely fall under the enemy hands.

_For what creature would dare to cross a dragon?_

 

The boy was kneeling under the Weirwood tree murmuring a prayer to the old tree gods. Tyrion was never a religious person, but it was almost awkward to see a child born in westeros praying for the old gods. Well, the boy didn’t know where he was born.

 

He knew the boy didn’t flee the city with his younger sister, when he had the chance, because of his other sister. The pretty queen- to- be, Sansa Stark. Or maybe he’s suspicious about the special attention he’s getting from the Queen, and bidding time to demand answers.

 

 

 Tyrion was glad for it. He didn't want his sister’s bastard son in the sight of the royal family. Besides the obvious detail that the Lannisters would never allow a bastard to mix with them, he wanted to keep Jon away from King Joffrey Baratheon. He didn't want to think if the king was capable of harming a brother. But for the time being he would do his best to keep his childish king away from his oldest nephew.

The boy had black hair; he wondered why his sweet sister with her admirable quick wits didn’t try to pass him off as Robert’s son. Surely, even a butcher born with a whiff of stark blood would be more honorable and chivalrous a king than Cersei’s dear Joff.

 

 He paused a few feet away, studying Jon for a long moment. The boy looked upset, scowling up at the tree where the red leaves sang to the tune of wind. He held his direwolf pup, the pure white and silent Ghost, close to his chest. Tyrion could practically feel the anger radiating off of him.

“Not many of people use this place anymore. Just the reason I like it.”

He spoke quietly, cautiously stepping closer to the boy who was sitting on the ground in front of him.

He saw Jon jump a little before slowly turning to face him. “My Lord.” He said with a bow.

“Oh, off with the formalities.” He dropped the book he was holding and lowered himself onto the ground. The boy just stared at him, curiosity turning the fog grey of his eyes into hot Valyrian steel.

He pitied Jon Snow. Another victim of his cruel, awful, bottle-blonde family’s unbearably swollen ego. He went back to reading his book, testing the boy’s patience.

“What do you want?” Jon asked breaking the ice.

“I heard you were the hero in the sword practice today. I’d love to see my brother’s face right now. Being defeated for the first time is not a funny feeling.”

 

"I thought The Hand of The King would be too busy causing and solving matters of the realm to listen to gossip."

Tyrion lifted a brow and decided against taking offense. At least until he'd learned everything he wanted to know. "I don't keep my head buried in an ink bottle.”

“Why do you read so much?”  
Tyrion shut the heavy book he was reading with a loud thud. “Look at me and tell me what you see.”  
“Is this a trick?”  
“ What you see is a dwarf. If I had been born a peasant, they might have left me out in the woods to die. Alas, I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock. Things are expected of me. My father was the Hand of the King for 20 years.” Those lethal grey eyes sliced toward him.  
“Until your brother killed that King.”

“Yes, until my brother killed him. Life is full of these little ironies. My sister married the new King, and my repulsive nephew became the king after him. I must do my part for the honor of my house, wouldn't you agree? But how? Well, my brother has a sword, and I have my mind. And a mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone. That's why I read so much, Jon Snow.”

“There’s something I must tell you.” He glanced toward the city, where most of the peasants had gathered beside the roads begging for something to eat. Kingslanding contributes to a life of lavishness for those who can afford it, since arrival of the conquering king Aegon Targaryen, but the city’s mobbed streets demand caution from even its most powerful residents. Under the shadows of war, things will only get worse. “Stannis Baratheon is sailing towards the Blackwater bay as we speak, the Red Keep may fall under his rule unless we use unfair means. His Red Woman has a penchant for using royal blood for her blood sorcery. Before the Targaryen conquest, the leaders of House Stark ruled over the north as Kings so you’ll be in a grave danger. I want both you and Lady Sansa out of the city before the war begins. This is not your war, Jon Snow. Think about your sister’s honor first, a lot of unforgivable things can happen to a young Lady in a place like this. Im sure you’ve heard of what the Mountain Did to princess Elia.”

He stared at him, swallowed. “But…but Sansa is betrothed to His Grace King Joffrey. The Kingsguard is sworn to protect her.”

“Joffrey is not Rhaegar. He’s not going to spare any of his best guards to protect his 'beloved' to-be-Queen. The boy loves and values his life more than anything.”Jon stared at him, pouted a moment, and went back to petting his wolf.

“Why are you telling me this, My Lord? You are the Hand of the King.”

"It's simply a matter of logic. I'm a very logical person. And also because I _love_  the sound of my _own voice_ "

Tyrion said lazily, though his nerves were strung tight as they have for many days now. There will be no peace in the Seven. Stannis is determined to have the throne. "The last Baratheon brother sails south now with a force of fifteen thousand men. He'll be at our gates in two weeks time."

“They are just wasting time, the greatest danger to the Iron Throne lies north of the wall, from White Walkers, not from Lord Stannis or Princess Daenerys.”  Tyrion was impressed; it seemed the boy has inherited both his wits and Jaime’s fencing skills with all the Stark traits. The best of both houses he comes from. 

“Ah, ah, yes, yes, grumpkins and snarks and all the other monsters your wet nurse warned you about. You're a smart boy, you don't believe that nonsense.” He said testing his limits.  
“They are not children’s stories. The Night's Watch protects the realm from...”

“Yes, the Night’s Watch. You are lucky you didn’t take the vows my boy. The….. rapers. When they were given a choice, Castration or the Wall, Most choose the knife.”

“Maybe the mother of dragons will be able to destroy them, the White Walkers I mean.”

“May be.” He met his look levelly, his eyes clear and serene. “But it’s too quickly to say anything.”

 

 

 

                                                                                                        *                        *                          *

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

 

_ Jon's POV _

 

 

Jon can scarcely believe a word the Queen is saying. Robert Baratheon was his father's most trusted friend. He fought two wars by his side. And to imagine his honorable father lying with his best friend’s, the king’s wife merely a week after their marriage.

The queen’s solar hinted of the highest of lavishness a man could presume to own.  Well, let’s just say it was a far cry from a certain stone walled gloomy hovel he used to call his room in Winterfell. But from his experience he now knew that no place in the Red Keep could offer the same warmth the old castle of Winterfell so humbly offered.  

Sansa’s eye balls nearly fall from their sockets and rolled off the table when one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting announced ‘the queen requested he dine with her’. And he had no words to describe how surprised he was.

Jon turned his eyes back at the Queen. Who only few minutes ago revealed a secret if the wrong ears heard of it off comes both of their heads.  He studied Cersei Lannister, trying to find any familiar features. She was all Lannister as he was all Stark.

The sun beamed in the high window, haloed over her golden hair, set the ornate gold hoops at her ears glinting.

"It's true, Jon. I swear it on the seven. I'll swear it again in the godswood if you wish."

"Surely you jape. I mean no disrespect My Queen, but you are the last person I would believe……..”

"Could force your father into breaking his vows to Catelyn Tally? I was pretty young thing, and he a naïve young man, forced to shoulder a title he hadn't been trained for and a woman who was meant for his older brother. I can assure you; he had no love for dear Cat when we were together. "

He hated one single fact the most. She was right. Under all the issues and trappings and complications, he'd been…well, he didn't like the term oddly calmed by her presence.

“And the impossible happened.” She moved to the window, leaving her plate on the table, pretty much untouched. Jon had lost apatite himself. But he went back to eating his food, as he believed in not wasting the good food they were given while King Joffrey starved half of the kingdom to death.

“I know this whole thing pisses you off. Wanting to know the truth weighs on the side of you staying, seeing it through.”

She sighed.

“Poor little boy. Do you hate me for being absent in your life?” _What did she expect? She just dropped the seven hells on me. And now she_ _awaits me to expect all she was saying and suddenly merge in to the role of her son._

“You didn’t just miss few of my name days _Mother_. You left me. Left me to rot in the north as a bastard where baseborns are treated as shit.”

The rage inside him was cold, and it was fierce, but his voice was casual as a shrug.

“I only wanted you to be safe.”

“You want me dead. If not dead, at least gone. I’m not going anywhere while Sansa’s here and you are not my mother.”

She cocked her head, sent him a speculative look.

"Temper tantrums are so boring, why don't we both break to logical corners?"

"No." Quivering with indignation, Jon stood up away from his seat. "Go on, then, have your say."

“I love you my son, as I have since the moment they placed you in my arms as a tiny little bundle.”

“Why did you marry him, King Robert I mean?”

“Women are creatures of affection. I wanted to please my father, so desperately as he was furious about himself since the day the Mad King named my twin brother, his Heir a Knight of the Kingsguard. You must have thought of that by now. If I hadn’t been weak I would have left him, taken you and left him and this place.” She turned, just a bit, so she looked back toward  her son. There was something else in her eyes now—he caught a glint of it—something brighter than pity. Good, he didn’t want pity from anyone. “I should have protected you and myself. We would have had a life together, away from here. I can protect you now. But we live in a perilous time. Stannis is almost at our door step. He'll be at our gates in two days time. What do you plan to do, Jon?"

"I'm going North with Sansa.”

“No, the Kingsroad is not somewhere you should be with a Lady of Sansa’s value at this point of the war my son; the peasants would kill you just for your boots.” Cersei closed her hand over his on the table a moment. “Who built the Red Keep?” She asked him the most peculiar question.

“Maegor the cruel.”

“Every person in the seven knows that Maegor completed the construction on the Red Keep. He created Maegor's Holdfast inside the heart of the Red Keep behind walls twelve feet thick and a dry moat lined with iron spikes. Why do you think he did that? He was a great warrior, a wiser king.  Our lives are as uncertain as a drop of rain water on a leaf. Especially in wartime, the lives of the  _royalty_ _are_ at even greater risk. He had the builders of Red Keep executed to protect the secrets of the hidden passages he had constructed. He had them built to ennable him to make a quick escape should his enemies ever trap him. Something I was always interested in since I became the Queen. I found one of his secret passages; it’s entrance is in the king's bedchamber behind the twin hearths.”

“Why are you telling me this?” He asked, too startled to form any more words.

“I want you out of the Red Keep before the history repeat itself.” He knew what part of the history she was talking about. His mind filled with the conjured images of the Sack of king’s landing. “But what about _you_ and prince Tommen?”

“He’s too young to live without a mother. I will protect him to the last breath of my life, but he will stay with me.”

 

     

 

 

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	8. Chapter 8

 

 

 

 

 

_ Robb's POV _

 

 

 

Robb Stark, the First of His Name, was crowned King of the North and the Riverlands by his bannermen and the riverlords.

Later that evening the Great Hall of the Winterfell was filled with people at the coronation banquet. The hall was brightly lit and multiple Stark banners lined the walls. The King Robb and Queen Jeyne Westerling were settled on the high table under the canopy of state joined by the King's two brothers and Queen's parents. Edmure Tully, Lord Karstark were also seated at the High Table.

The hall was warmly lit and full of festive voices. It was almost like being home again. But the servants were mostly new(with the handful of servants who survived Greyjoy attack)  and it was only him Bran and Rickon at the high table. Father, Jon, Sansa and Arya were absent and the home he'd known was gone. He wish Mother would come to no troble on her way back home from the Vale _._ _ _Her sister Lysa was dead and she had promised her to bring her only child to Winterfell and raise him as her own.__

Sitting on the Winter throne while his new pregnant wife sat beside him, he missed his father.

 Honor could be such a vile thing. Ned Stark, the former Lord of Winterfell and Lord Hand had already taken his vows when he made his last attempt to lure his father from his decision of taking the Black. He reviewed the heated conversation he had with his father on the wall in Lord Commander’s quarters.

 

 

_“I am a confessed traitor my son. I know all I did wrong was siding with the truth.” His father looked tired, a lot older than the man who had rode off from winterfell few moons ago to help his lifelong friend keep his Kingdom._

_“It was that monster Joffrey who ordered you to take the black, father. He’s no son of King Robert; he has no right to give orders as a King.”_

_“King Joffrey may have no solid claim to the Throne. But I professed my_ _treasonous acts against the crown and I accepted him as the rightful King in front of thousands of men.”_

 _“You’re a Stark father, a Northman; King Joffrey is not your King, rightful or otherwise. I am the King in the North; I can give you royal pardon.”_ _H_ _e thought he'd glimpsed something, some flash of pride, in his father’s eyes. It was gone now, but Robb still responded to it._

_“We can be a family again father. Arya is almost home. She will be in Winterfell by the time we get back. With Stannis threatening war from one side, Joffrey has no choice but to free Jon and Sansa. Rickon needs you Father, he’s only six. ”_

_Ned Stark moved forward and embraced his firstborn._

 “ _No Robb, your first command cannot be to undo another king’s command. If you do this, Arryns will most likely be the first to openly denounce you as king. They live and breathe law like air. Starks has manned the wall for thousands of years. It’s not a dishonor for us to join its ranks.”_

_“But father the North……”_

_“Will thrive and prosper under your rule. You’ve already proven to be a good leader. I have my faith on you my son you will bring the north and our house to the state it was before King Torrhen Stark  knelt before the Targaryens. ”_

"Hail to the King!" The crowd chanted out again. And it brought Robb back to the present. He knew how to fight a war but sitting on the chair  which previously belonged to his father all he wanted to do was run back inside chambers, bury himself under the fur covers until this night passed. He had plenty of reason to know embarrassments faded quicker when you stood up and faced it.

"Gods keep the King!" 

Soon enough the King and Queen rose and a hush fell over the hall. King Robb began, “My Lords, Ladies, and honored guests, we are pleased that you have joined us to celebrate this occasion and we are thankful for it.” Robb's voice sounded tired in his own ears and far too old for his young body.

“We rode south upon my father's imprisonment for treason, you northerners raised your banners with me and marched south to aid our allies in the Riverlands and to free my father. The false king still warms The Iron Throne. It was the Dragon kings of House Targaryen that my ancestors bend the knee to, and now they are all dead. We are once again sovereign Kingdom with no ties to the south. May this be the beginning of a new era of Winter Kings! ”

 

"Gods old and new keep the King!" Even before turning his head he knew the voice came from Greatjon Umber. Rest of the Umber Bannermen followed their Lord’s lead and started cheering for their newly proclaimed king. He knew they cheered, and some of them wept. He knew that to a man they lowered to one knee.

“I am a servant of the North,” she said, unable to look away from him. “I am a child of the old gods and the new. This sword,” He raised Ice, the ancestral sword of House Stark “and all it protects is mine. I am Robb Stark, first of my name, King of North and Riverlands. Rise, and know I love you.”

 For the first time he looked, and he saw. Hundreds of people, his people, with their eyes on his toasting for his coronation and good health. .Every one of them, from this day, would be his responsibility. His hands felt cold, so very cold.

   

 

 

 

 

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**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic so be kind and Review.  
> Reviews are love, darlings.


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